


Loyalty

by bmlhillenkeene



Series: Traitors Arc [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:17:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmlhillenkeene/pseuds/bmlhillenkeene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When something happens to Edmund, Peter is about to learn the level of loyalty those in his 'Traitors Army' beings have for his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Edmund was trying his best to stifle his laughter, but was obviously not doing a very goo job if the looks Philip was sending over his shoulder at him were any indication. Walking beside him Maxus was watching proceedings with a furrowed brow, the Minotaur equivalent of a bemused raised eyebrow Edmund had found in the months since Maxus had become the head of his personal guard.

It had taken some time for Edmund to convince Peter that he was perfectly safe with the Fell creatures that were now under his command. But had given in when Peter demanded he at least have a few of their more conventional warriors in his guard, just in case. Edmund had chosen the two centaurs and the faun very carefully; he refused to have anyone in his guard who would not tolerate working with the Fell creatures.

The faun, incidentally, was the one who had cut him that fateful day he had dived to save a wolf mother. The faun, Filionus, had apologised profusely, and begged his forgiveness. Edmund had shrugged it off, embarrassed by the attention, and had redirected the conversation towards the newly freed Fell creatures, asking if he could put aside his hatred of them enough to work with them. Filionus had taken some time to consider his proposal, but had returned to him and pledged his allegiance to Edmunds guards.

The two centaurs had in fact been pointed out by Oreius as the most open minded, and Edmund had accepted them. He kept a careful watch on proceedings, but over the six months since he had set this up, everything was going surprisingly well.

He reached down to pat Philip's neck; he had been worried that his horse friend would refuse to bear him when he discovered who he would most likely be travelling with if they went t battle. But Philip had surprised him, telling him plainly that it was an honour to bear the King of Narnia, and that if Edmund trusted them, Philip did too.

They had set out from Cair Paravel the day before on a training exercise; it was the induction of some new members. Over the past months word had spread, and he had started getting a small, but steady trickle of those who wished for a second chance. Some came only to secure safety for their families to live and work; others came to prove themselves in Edmunds guards. For those, Edmund had devised the training exercises, as a way to make sure they could be trusted without endangering anyone at Cair Paravel. Peter didn't like it, but accepted that Edmund was not to be swayed from this path.

His guard was now a rather motley looking lot. Maxus was the head of the guards, and did his job admirably, and Edmund had no complaint about him. Maxus accompanied him on every mission, no matter what. Two of the dwarves had stayed on as permanent guards, the others agreeing to join up to form a fighting company should there be a war, or big fight. Yarren the snow Tiger had pledged his services. He also had an Ogre, Clob, who was slow, but friendly enough for one of his kind. Filionus the faun and one of his two Centaur guards. Everyone else remained at Cair Paravel, the second Centaur left there to run interference should it be required with Edmund gone.

Those being inducted into his guards were an Orkney, and Brightspark, who had reached his eighth month, and declared himself old enough to join the guards. Edmund had wanted to refuse him until he was at least a year old, but Swiftwind had told him that eight months was the age all wolves learnt to hunt and became proper members of the pack. So Edmund had reluctantly agreed, intending to keep a sharp eye on the young pup. He had grown very fond of the fun loving wolf since they had met.

Brightspark, was at this moment listening avidly to one of the dwarves telling him all about the last training exercise they had gone on. The dwarf was embellishing on what had actually happened, and the wolf pup was lapping it all up, growing more and more excited, but trying very hard to hide it. He had been trying so hard to act like a grownup, very serious, following every order he was given as best he could, but seeing the way his face was slack with wonder, and his eyes were filled with apprehensive excitement, and the way his tail, the perfect indicator of the wolfs thoughts, start it's quick swishes that sent the white flash on the end blurring.

This was what Edmund liked so much about the little wolf, this wonderment, innocence. His eagerness to know everything and to please. This was why he had been reluctant to take Brightspark into his guards just yet, but the look of disappointment would have eaten away at him even worse. But he would not smother the wolf, he would give him exactly the same chance to prove himself as everyone else, and he would try not to interfere. After all, it would hardly be very fair.

Milrina had stayed behind on this exercise, though she normally joined them as the official healer, but one of the families that Edmund had helped find a home had had an illness, serious enough to require she remain there for a few days.

"Sire, we're coming up to the clearing." Yasha, the female centaur in his troupe told him.

Edmund nodded his thanks. "Please check that it is secure."

She nodded and galloped ahead, sword in hand to check the area they normally used. Bright-spark turned excited grey eyes up to Edmund, his question silent, but easily understood, and Edmund smiled at him. "Are you ready for this Spark?" he asked, he had taken to shortening the cumbersome name down when he spoke to the wolf informally.

Brightspark nodded eagerly. "Oh yes Edmund—I mean sire."

If there was one consistent thing about the young one, it was that he was never formal. Edmund liked a lot of his guard to be informal with him, but for most of them this meant calling him 'Sire', which he could admit was a sight better that 'His Royal Majesty, King Edmund the Just', which he had been regaled with too often in the beginning.

It was a surprise when they rounded the next bend in the forest trail to be suddenly faced with a group. Edmund, who found it suspicious anyway that they should be here, blocking his guard's path, would have cautiously spoken to them, and then have ordered everyone to a new area, just in case. But in this case, there was no need to be cautious or suspicious. Their intentions were quite obvious.

Yasha's body lay, blood pooling out from a slit in her throat, which explained why they had not heard a cry of warning.

"Maxus." Edmund said softly.

"Sire." The Minotaur snorted in response.

This was normally all that was needed, Maxus knew his intentions, over the months they had worked closely together, and Edmund had found that Maxus normally knew what he meant without him actually having to say it. It was good, and gave them a slight advantage over potential enemies.

"Why have you killed my guard?" Edmund asked voice clear, as biting as any steel. He was not pleased.

One of the figures. A hag moved forward, she ignored Edmund's words, instead speaking to those who were with him. "You have done well to bring him to us. We thank you brethren."

It was obviously a ploy, and it would have worked, with anyone but Edmund he suspected. He had a connection to the Fell creatures that had joined Narnia's forces under him; he trusted those with him implicitly, except perhaps the Orkney.

"What are you talking about?" Brightspark demanded to know, teeth barred.

"Will you answer me, or shall we just let the battle commence?" Edmund asked, giving Maxus a slight nod, and the Minotaur shifted, moving one big hand to the shaft of his axe.

The Hag grinned, chillingly. "Oh, let the battle commence!"

"Behind us!" Edmund yelled, cursing himself for not realising the obvious.

It was a fight that was quick, and brutal, and bloody. Edmunds small group was grossly outnumbered, and there seemed no end to the enemy. It was an unspoken order to fight their way free and run. Edmund had been dragged from Philip's back, and he could hear the horse bellowing angrily as he tried to get back to him.

He could tell he was being herded away from the rest of his guard, but could do little to prevent it. They were not trying to kill him, so he suspected that they must need him for something, so he made a decision.

"Maxus! Take the remaining men and get back to Cair Paravel! Get Peter!" he yelled.

He could see that Maxus was unhappy, but one thing he knew was that Maxus would follow his orders. So the manbull, with a mighty roar, lifted an injured and unconscious Filionus, and called for a retreat. Only the Ogre responded to his call, and Edmund was sickened to think that Brightspark had been killed.

The creatures attacking paid the retreating figures no mind, all eyes turned to him. Though he did not want to, he threw his sword to the ground, there were too many for him to fight his way through, and besides, if he was reading the situation correctly they would keep him alive.

All he could do was hope Peter would not let his distrust of the Fell creatures stop him believing Maxus.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was very proud of his little brother, unfortunately he was rather bad at showing it, and it made him feel a little guilty when Edmund had begun down this path to 'Prove himself'. He could see the way Edmund lit up whenever he did something that made Peter, Susan or Lucy bestow a warm look or proud smile at him, and that made Peter feel bad, because subconsciously he was always watching what his brother did, studying him to see if he was going to start to stray from the path he had chosen. He felt guilty because he knew he could trust Edmund, his little brother had been hurt badly, but still fought on.

However this recent plan of Edmunds, taking in remnants of the witch's forces had Peter worried. He knew he had probably given Edmund the wrong impression, leading him to believe he was more worried about the people in the castle than for Edmund, which was much closer to the truth. He had all but demanded that Edmund have some fauns, centaurs, satyrs, anything at all that wasn't a fell beasts, in his guard, terrified that any of these creatures could turn on Edmund during training and just disappear, leaving Peter with no way to know what had happened.

Watching the way Edmund interacted with them, made Peter realise why Aslan had called his brother 'The Just'. Edmund treated everyone the same, but he poured his heart and soul into helping those who he felt needed it. Lucy had explained it to Peter once, it was like how a healer will help those who are sick, giving them medicines to help them get better, but they just give the healthy a check-up. Edmund had merely found the 'sick' and were helping them get well. It saddened Peter that his little sister could tell him more about his brother's motivations than he had noticed.

In a way Peter was hopelessly jaded against Edmund. His betrayal hung at the back of his mind, and though most of the time it never came to the forefront, and he barely thought about it at all, sometimes, normally during some kind of fight between them he would say something cutting, something about what Edmund had done. He would watch Edmund's face pale, and the guilt would consume him. He always apologised, he never meant to say these things, but sometimes it was the easiest way to get Edmund to back down, so he took it, and he hated himself afterwards, because Edmund never once stood up for himself, never once came back with "Aslan said we shouldn't bring up what has passed." That thought always hit him after he had said something stupid.

He wished just once Edmund would say it.

Maybe that was it though, in some twisted way he wanted to hear his brother defend himself and what he had done, like he defended those who had once worked for the witch.

Peter bit back a sigh, and dragged his thoughts back to the task at hand, the job he was supposed to be doing. They had established in their first month as monarchs that they would have a weekly occasion for the people to come and air their complaints. What with Edmund not being there, on his training exercise as he was, this meant that Peter had to pay closer attention than he would normally would. If it was a matter of land or food, or any dispute at all that had not yet turned violent, Edmund dealt with it, with a quick efficiency Peter didn't know how to place. His brother had changed, drastically, and Peter still did not know how to treat him.

Thankfully they were between audiences at the moment, otherwise he would have been getting Susan's patented disappointed look. As it was he was getting an exasperated look. But he honestly couldn't help his mind wandering. Edmund wasn't in Cair Paravel, how was he supposed to know if he was alright?

"Oh Peter, really. We're all worried about him, but he's been out on these training exercises before and he's come back just fine." Susan sighed.

Peter shrugged a little defensively at her. "I can't help it." He told her.

He could see Lucy on Susan's other side, shaking her head. Of all of them, she was the only one who seemed to understand what Edmund was trying to do, and she supported him 100%. She had even made the effort to get to meet Edmunds new guards, to speak to those fell creatures that came through the palace, looking for Edmund. Peter and Susan did not, as a general rule, tend to associate with them. This wasn't because they disliked them overmuch, the had decided to try and help for Edmunds benefit, but the suspicious looks they received, or even worse, the fearful ones, had forced the two eldest to abandon helping Edmund.

"Honestly!" Lucy exclaimed. "Edmund trusts them, why can't you?" she asked him.

Peter frowned, biting back a comment, knowing that if he said anything about his worries Lucy would give him her version of a disappointed look, which in some ways was even worse than Susan's. Finally he shrugged, it was almost four days from Edmund and his guard had left, and though he knew that it sometimes overran by a few days, Edmund would normally send some kind of missive on the fourth day to let them know either way.

"You're worrying over nothing Peter." Susan told him. "Now could you please concentrate when the next person comes in?"

Heaving a sigh Peter nodded.

The next person to enter was not a Narnian come to air grievances to the monarchs, but someone who made Peter's heart go cold with dread.

x

Peter's face had become cold and hard as they story was told. The Minotaur remained on one knee before them, head tilted downwards as he spoke. Peter, by the end of the tale, was furious; he itched to call the guards to take the Minotaur away, to have him locked up in the deepest part of the unused dungeons. But he stopped himself just in time. He needed to know more.

"So you left my brother there, surrounded?" he asked scathingly.

"As he ordered, Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent." The Minotaur replied.

Peter fought back the yell that was building in his chest. They had left Edmund? Left him? Surrounded by the enemy? He didn't care that Edmund had ordered them to. What kind of guard ran from a fight when their king was in danger? He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. "Remnants of the Witches forces?" he clarified.

The Minotaur nodded. "I recognised some of them, Your Majesty, High King—"

Peter cut him off, growing annoyed by the obviously fake respect given to his title. "How do I know you have nothing to do with this?" he asked, his voice cold.

The Minotaur looked up then, and Peter was taken aback by the anger there, but nothing was said in his defence.

"I will have you imprisoned for this. I knew trusting fell beasts was a bad idea." He could see Oreius watching him from behind the Minotaur, he wasn't sure if the look in his eyes was disappointed or not, and if it was, he could not see why he would be disappointed. Maybe it was just Peter projecting his own feelings on the subject.

The Minotaur stood then. "Whether you trust me or no, Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent, is not the issue at hand. It is whether or not you trust your brother, His Majesty, King Edmund the Just. For he trusts me and the others of his guard, and he trusts us to follow his orders; no matter how distasteful we may find them. Lock me up if you feel you must, but it will not aid you in finding His Majesty, King Edmund the Just."

"Is that a threat?" Peter demanded to know, blinded by his own prejudice, and worry for his brother.

The Minotaur shook his great head. "No, Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent, merely a statement of fact. I know where the battle took place. I will be of more use there than in a cell."

Oreius chose that moment to speak. "Your Majesty, Maxus is right, whether he had anything to do with this unfortunate incident aside, we may need him once we begin our search."

"What if it's a trap?" Peter asked him, just realising the possibility.

Oreius nodded thoughtfully. "We will take every precaution."

"They were not intent on killing him," The Minotaur said suddenly. "The rest of us they attacked with the intent to wound or kill. But His Majesty, King Edmund the Just, they did only enough to separate him from us. I believe he realised this, which is why he called for us to retreat."

Peter could well imagine it. His brother had become rather self sacrificing since being returned to them from the witch. "Oreius, ready the troops. We leave at once." He eyed the Minotaur for a long moment. "Make sure he is never left unsupervised."

Oreius nodded at the command, and the Centaur and Minotaur left the chamber.

"Peter." Lucy said, speaking for the first time since the sordid news.

"Hmm?" Peter asked, distracted, mind already spinning through the possibilities, why would they want Edmund?

Lucy sighed. "Never mind. Just keep your eyes open, and bring Ed back home safe. Ok?" she gave him a hug.

Susan also hugged him. "I'll go pack some stuff for Edmund, he'll probably like to change once you find him, you know how he is." And she swept away. Peter knew what she meant, after any incident that made him feel put out, angry or depressed, whether it was dealing with a particularly bad argument, or realising that one of those he was trying to help did not want to change, he would always change his clothes, as if to physically remove himself of the taint of something unwelcome. It was a habit he had picked up after his time with the witch.

Peter went to his own room to grab some things, before rushing to the armoury for his armour. Stepping out into the courtyard less than half an hour later, ready to get started. He was surprised when he found Oreius waiting for him, not surrounded by the ordinary soldiers, but rather by more Fell beasts than anything. As well as a company of fifteen fauns and centaurs, there was also eight black dwarves, an ogre, two Cyclops, Three Harpies, one of which he recognised as the healer Edmund preferred to use, nine wolves, and six others he did not have names for. He looked at Oreius, who merely shrugged slightly. The Minotaur stood straight-backed beside the centaur.

Peter was about to say something, but was stopped when the oldest female wolf stepped forward.

"If I may your Royal Majesty High King Peter the Magnificent, I would ask that we be permitted to join in the search for His Majesty King Edmund the Just, who once saved my life, and those of my cubs. We are familiar with his scent and will be able to track him much more easily than anyone else here."

Peter frowned a moment before he remembered the little wolf that he had seen following Edmund around like a lost puppy. His brother always spoke of him... what was his name? "Brightspark..." he recalled, looking at the wolf, he did not like wolves due to his first encounter with them, but Edmund had told him time and time again, that these particular wolves had nothing to do with the witch. "Your son, he was with Edmund?" he could remember him, running around excited at being allowed to join the guards at long last.

The wolf bowed her head in a nod. "He was. I have no allusions that he is still alive, but I do know that he gave his life in protection of his king, and so I will not allow his death to be in vain."

Peter was struck by how strangely noble she sounded, and it jarred with his previous thoughts. He looked around at the assembled group, nodding to the she-wolf, but not trusting himself to answer. He made his way to Oreius, who had his horse waiting. "Why have they joined us?" he asked quietly, hoping to remain unheard to all but the centaur.

Oreius smiled slightly. "I was rounding up some troops as you requested, and when we came out to wait for you, they were already here, ready and waiting to go. Your brother commands great respect from these creatures."

Peter almost snorted. "I don't trust them Oreius, they could be helping the enemy in this matter."

"Maxus has not left my sight from the throne Room King Peter. No, I believe those who have gathered do so on good intentions." Oreius looked him squarely in the eye then, and Peter found himself a little nervous as he looked back. "King Edmund trusts them. Do you trust him?"

Peter looked around again, considering the question, the same one voiced by the Minotaur earlier. What Lucy had said to him also filtered into his thoughts. 'Just keep your eyes open'. Maybe this was what she had meant, Lucy never was terribly practical in her words, and they normally meant something other than what he took them to mean. "I trust him." He answered finally, determined.

"Then let us trust that he has made a good choice." Oreius told him quietly.

Peter still didn't like it, but he nodded, and ordered the group to move out. They formed two separate columns, the fauns and centaurs behind Oreius, to his left, and the Fell creatures behind Maxus to his right, there was none of the normal talk that came on the march, each side looking suspiciously at the other, untrusting. The wolves ran on ahead.

Peter could only hope that they would find his brother alive and well. And he hoped, for Edmunds sake, that the fell beasts he had taken under his wing had indeed not betrayed him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was frightening the care they took with him, he had been bound, yes, but it was merely restricting, not painful. If it wasn't for the fact that he was surrounded on all sides he could have easily enough escaped. But as it stood, over the last two days he had not had the chance, they watched him like hawks. He was wanted healthy; he had been fed, watered, looked after to such a degree that was worrying to him. It was so different to the last time he had been held by those loyal to the witch.

And loyal to the Witch they were, calling her 'Queen', even thought she was dead.

He didn't yet know what their plans for him were. They did not speak to him, only watched, and not knowing, coupled with how well they treated him, was starting to make him afraid. He fought down this fear, refusing to let it show. It was an uneasy time for him. Plagued by the memories of the fight, and all those who had died.

Maxus and Clob were definitely alive, that he knew. Filionus could have died on the way back to Cair. He thought he could remember Philip escaping into the trees, but he couldn't be sure, and the others? It was a heavy guilt that hit him. They wouldn't have died if it wasn't for him. It would perhaps have been better had they died saving him from death, at least then it would have been for a reason. As it was, he remained uninjured, and well enough treated, while his people lay dead and injured.

The image of Brightspark, most likely among the dead, or if not dead, injured enough to end up that way before he was found, ate at him the most. The wolf had been too young, far too young. He never should have agreed to let him come along.

His subconscious, which had begun to sound suspiciously like Aslan after the battle at Breuna, told him he couldn't have known what would happen, he couldn't blame himself for something so unexpected. But he could, and he would continue to do so. He should have considered the possibility. Never mind that nothing like it had ever happened before, he should have considered it.

At least he could expect Peter to come after him; he only hoped his brother did not rush into this recklessly. And that Peter did not let this incident cloud him against the rest of the Fell creatures. Peter was not a bad sort really, but he did have a tendency to let his worry for his siblings overshadow everything else, and because of what the Witch and her followers had done to him (Edmund), and the fright Susan and Lucy had been put through by Maugrim the wolf, he let that worry and distrust cloud him to seeing the good in any of these creatures.

Eventually he new that Peter would see the good to come from having them, but he doubted it would be any time soon.

It was nearing evening, it was the fourth day and he was now officially quite lost. They had taken him on a rather twisted trail; with barely any rests he was unable to find any familiar landmarks to help him. He could only hope that some of the wolves would join Peter, and that Peter would let them, otherwise he might never be found, and though they were treating him well now, he did not dare to hope he would be so well treated when they reached their destination.

"Rest."

It was one of the very few things that was said to him, that and "Eat" or "drink". He gratefully sank to the ground where he stood, knowing he would not be permitted to find a tree to lean against. They surrounded him at all times, and gave him no chance at escape. But they all remained some distance from him. Which was good thinking on their part as he would probably have stolen one of their weapons and used it to free himself. But it did not help his situation.

The Hag seemed to be the one in charge of this group, she had not spoken to him since before the fight; he had hoped to engage her in conversation so he could find out what was going on, but she remained rather elusive in that department, and Edmund was fast running out if idea's to draw her attention. He waited for the evening meal of hard bread and water. His wrists were bound in front of him for a change, so there was no rigmarole over untying him and retying him again.

He watched the camp around him move, watched how they interacted. There was some talk, but in a language he could not understand, so he was left none the wiser to their plans still. Everyone deferred to the Hag, everything that was done, he noted, was first approved by her. Was she the new leader? Was she trying to be the next White Witch? Was it even possible?

And just why did they want him?

He had ruled out that it had anything to do with his siblings, they would have been heading in the direction of Cair Paravel, or at least a messenger would have been sent with demands, but he had seen none.

He didn't like this, there was a feeling of dread that welled up in him the more he thought about it, and he tried to push it back, refusing to believe it was even a possibility. She was dead. Aslan had killed her. She was dead.

He ate his bread and drank the water, his mind preoccupied by the terrifying thought, his eyes constantly moving, cataloguing everything he could, weighing Peter's chances against them, hoping that it was just his own distraction that was making the odds come out in the wrong favour.

He did not sleep as much as doze, ready to wake in an instant should an opportunity present itself.

x

It was a commotion on the other side of camp that brought him sitting up in a flash, head turned to try and see all he could in the darkness. But there was only a surge of enemy bodies, everything else was blocked. It was not a long confrontation. He saw the Hag motion towards him, smiling in that chilling fashion at him as she did, and a group made their way towards him. He tensed, worried. What could it possibly be?

A body was thrown down beside him, and the fell creatures smiled cruelly before turning away. Edmund's wide eyes were ripped from staring at the body when the Hag stepped closer.

"Perhaps this will curb any ideas of escape." She said.

Edmund looked at her coldly. "You would use one of my own to ensure my cooperation?" he asked her.

"I would." She smiled again. "And you will cooperate, won't you?"

Edmund glanced back once again to the body, and the slight breathing he could see, and closed his eyes. He would. He nodded slightly, but his brain quickly kicked into gear, and took the opportunity as it stood. "What do you want me for anyway?"

The Hag shook her head in disappointment. "I had hoped you were much cleverer than this, little king. I will not tell you, for you must figure it out on your own."

Edmund grit his teeth, infuriating was the word he could use to describe this Hag, she was toying with him, and he could not think of a way to stop it. "It's the Witch isn't it." He stated.

She turned away from him, but he knew that the chilling smile was back. "Now you are beginning to see." She walked away.

Edmund looked after her. The Witch? Dear Aslan, surely he could not be right in thinking... No. She was dead, Aslan had killed her. She was not coming back.

"Edmund... Sire?"

Edmund looked down, and felt such an intense relief go through him that it took his breath away for an instant. "Spark!" but that relief soon gave way to quiet anger. "What did you think you were doing? I called for a retreat!"

BrightSpark shifted just enough so that Edmund could see his whole face, he did not stand, and as such did not garner any attention from the surrounding guards. "And I did retreat, to the forest, with Philip."

"Philip's alive?" Edmund breathed.

Brightspark nodded. "He's waiting there for the others to come back."

"And why are you not with him?" Edmund wanted to know, holding back the urge to pull the young wolf into a hug, lest he decide to strangle him for putting himself in danger.

"Well," Brightspark lowered his voice to the barest of whispers; Edmund had to strain to hear it. "Philip and I decided that it would be no use everyone getting there only to lose you if they (he motioned with his nose to the group around them) decided to go over a river or something. Even with my mother and uncles helping them they would lose your scent. So I showed Philip a mark I could use that they could follow, and he stayed behind to tell them what it was. I followed because I'm smaller, and less easy to spot and catch."

Brightspark gave him such a proud look, proud of his plan, that crumbled a little when Edmund just looked at him, and gestured minutely to the camp. The wolf lowered his head slightly, ears drooping just a touch, the equivalent of a blush. "Well... I had a reason." He said defensively.

Edmund just looked at him, knowing his question was very obvious.

When Brightspark met his eyes next, it was with an adult look, and determined. "I lost you this morning, and it took me until now to find you again. What if something had happened? I can't be part of your guard if your dead you know!" he bared his teeth in displeasure at the thought. "So I decided to get captured, at least this way I can stay with you, and protect you, be able to leave the marks and not lose you again."

The worst part was, it made sense, and Edmund could not stay mad when eager blue grey eyes turned to him, an a furry white tipped tail brushed against his arm. Finally he just shook his head and smiled. "Spark, what am I going to do with you?" he asked in fond exasperation.

Brightspark grinned at him, tail beginning to twitch a little. "Make me one of your guards?" he asked hopefully.

Edmund stifled a laugh behind one of his hands so as not to draw any unwanted attention from the guards. Brightspark was irrepressible. "If we get out of this little adventure alive Spark, consider it done. Though you're really going to have to learn to follow orders."

"Philip said you'd say that, and he told me to tell you that--" Brightspark paused for a moment, before doing a rather passable impression of Philip. "'We talking animals know better than to trust a human when it comes to instincts. King Edmund has no sense of self preservation, so it's up to us to look after him.'"

Edmund rolled his eyes. How like Philip. "Stubborn is the word I'd use, for both of you."

Bright-spark grinned again. "We're born with it Sire."

"Edmund." Edmund corrected.

Brightspark shifted again, resting his head on Edmunds thigh, looking up at him. "They haven't hurt you?" he asked.

Edmund shook his head. "No. They're treating me rather too well really. You? Were you injured in the fight? Or just now?"

Brightspark shook his head slightly. "Unless you count my stepping on a thorn earlier today looking for you, injured. It did hurt though. A lot. But it's ok now. They didn't try to actually hurt anyone so long as we didn't fight them or try to get near to you. That's when Philip and I went into the forest to hide." The wolf suddenly seemed to be struck by a thought, and raised his head to look at Edmund properly. "You're not angry with me are you?"

Edmund smiled a little, here was the little wolf he had taken a liking too. "No Spark, I'm not angry. I'm actually quite relieved to see you. I had thought you were dead." He reached out and awkwardly rubbed Brightsparks ears, no easy task bound together as they were. "Now all we can do is wait."

Brightspark rested his head once again on Edmunds leg and closed his eyes. Edmund continued to stroke his fur. He was the only non wolf allowed to take such liberties. The following days until Peter reached them were going to be hard, Edmund could feel it now.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter looked at the scene before him, feeling vaguely sick at the sight of so much blood. The bodies had been left, two dwarves, a centaur and an Orkney. It was not so much the death that bothered him, he had seen enough of that during the last battle against the Witch, it was the fact that these were a part of Edmunds guards, who knew what could have happened to his brother in the three and a half days it had taken for the news to return to Cair Paravel, and for the rescue party to make it here.

The wolves had moved past the battleground, short howls their only communication as they searched for some trace of Edmunds scent. He had yet to hear a howl of anger, pain or anguish, so he could assume that perhaps the young wolf that had been with Edmund had survived.

Suddenly there was an excited series of yips, and Peter tore his eyes away from the blood soaked ground to see what the wolves had found. It was Philip, limping a little. Peter wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not. Oh, he was very glad Philip was alive, Edmund loved his mount, but if Philip was here, that meant Edmund was totally alone with the enemy.

Peter got down from his own mount and went to Philip. "Philip! Are you well?" he called.

Philip nodded his head. "Yes King Peter, I am as well as can be expected. It is King Edmund you should worry for."

Peter sighed. "I know, and I am. He is alone?" he asked, knowing the answer, but wishing for another.

Philip nodded gravely. "He is, but young Brightspark has gone after them. He is leaving a trail of marks that the wolves can track easily; we decided it would be best if one of us followed in case they took a path that his scent could not be tracked down."

Peter nodded. This was better news than he had hoped, if there was any of these creatures he would consider trusting, it was the wolf cub, even he had seen the hero-worship directed at Edmund in his eyes. "All right." He turned back to see the fell group gather up their fallen comrades, under Maxus's direction, including the centaur, though they offered the body to Oreius, who directed two Centaurs to take it.

"How long do you need to bury the dead?" he asked.

Oreius was silent, and looked at Maxus, who seemed reluctant to speak. Peter could only wonder at this, surely he was not so reluctant around Edmund, indeed, Peter knew he was not. He had once watched Edmund and Maxus get into a short argument over something once, it had been resolved quickly. Peter had been worried as he looked on, ready to step in should the Minotaur threaten his brother. Only now did he realise that Edmund had not so much as flinched when Maxus had reared to his great height of almost eight foot.

"Two of the dwarves had already agreed to remain and bury them so that we may press on, Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent." Maxus responded after a moment. Two black dwarves nodded. "We honour their deaths by finding His Majesty King Edmund the Just quickly."

Peter blinked, but nodded, looking to Oreius. Oreius looked to the two dwarves who would be staying. "We shall entrust Yasha to your care, so that she may lie beside her comrades."

The dwarves, who obviously knew Yasha, nodded. "We'll take good care o' 'er." They promised.

Peter looked on for a short moment, knowing he should say something, but not quite sure what. Finally he shook himself and went to where the bodies lay, he hesitated again. It was the duty of the King, or High King, to bless those who had passed on, thanking them for their service if they had died in battle. Finally he raised his hand. "Aslan's blessings upon you. Your sacrifice shall not be in vain."

When he turned back he was surprised to see some shock on the faces of the fell creatures. Drawing himself up he looked at them all, wondering if he had made some sort of mistake. "Would you prefer another's blessings?" he asked.

Maxus shook his head. "No. We will accept his blessings should he wish to give them to us. Your Majesty High King Peter the Magnificent." The Minotaur turned away, and the fell company fell in behind him.

Peter returned to his horse and mounted, sending a confused look to Oreius. "What was that about?" he asked.

Oreius looked very serious. "They were, most of those here, part of the witches army, to have Aslan's blessing asked for them when they die might be an example of forgiveness for a good deed. I do not believe that they have considered this possibility before. They follow King Edmund to redeem themselves King Peter, and I believe you have just offered them a pathway to forgiveness."

Peter frowned, but watched them for a long time as they began to move out, leaving the two dwarves behind to bury the dead. "I hope that doesn't mean they're all going to get themselves killed. I shouldn't think Edmund would be very pleased with me if I got them all killed on him. Not after all the work he's put into this." He half smiled.

"We would not leave His Majesty King Edmund the Just so undefended." Maxus rumbled from his right, startling him.

Peter's faint good humour vanished at the reminder of what had happened. "But you did leave him undefended, didn't you?" he snapped.

Maxus nodded gravely. "I did. But I do not regret it."

Peter reined his horse to a stop. "'Do not regret it'?" he exclaimed, only just keeping his voice low enough so as not to be heard by the soldiers, only Oreius and Maxus. "You left the king you swore to protect, and you do not regret it?"

Maxus nodded his great head. "I followed his orders—"

"I don't care if he ordered you to. Would you kill him if he ordered it?" Peter demanded to know.

"If I knew it was for a very good reason." Maxus replied simply. "I would trust his Majesty King Edmund the Just to always have a good reason for asking me such a thing."

Peter looked at him then, really studied him hard. "You would not question it?" he asked, finally resuming the march.

Maxus shook his head.

"Why?" Peter asked.

"He offered us a second chance Your Majesty High King Peter the Magnificent, in a time when all we could hope for was to remain unnoticed long enough to get over the border where we would not be killed for what we had done. He aided in stopping the Quee—White Witch." He stumbled over that but continued. "He is one of us, yet not one of us."

Peter considered this for a long time, riding on and following the calls of the wolves as they followed the trail, and the marks left by Bright-spark.

x

There was some confusion that night, they had pressed onwards into the darkness, following the wolves, who could follow the marks just as easily then as during the day. They were hoping to close the gap quickly. It seemed that the wolves were having a difficult time finding the next mark, which was worrying. Because they had been making good time up until now.

"We should camp your Majesty." Oreius suggested.

Peter let out a strained sigh; he would prefer to continue on. But he knew Oreius was right. They should camp, let everyone sleep and regain their strength, let the wolves find this next mark so they could continue on early in the morning. If luck was on their side. He nodded. "Alright."

Oreius called for them to break camp. Again there was a clear division between the Narnian's and the Fell. Peter watched it, and he felt a surge of annoyance at it, though he couldn't explain why. Finally he just gave in with a sigh and went about setting up a bedroll for himself, waving away the offer to have a tent erected for him. He didn't want to waste time taking down a tent in the mornings.

Peter watched his people; only Oreius and Maxus spoke to each other, meeting in the middle of the two groups. Curious suddenly over what they were discussing he made his way towards them. They were studying a map, held just out of Peter's line of sight, being that much smaller than both the centaur and the Minotaur.

"Oreius?" he questioned.

"Your Majesty, we were merely deliberating the most likely places they could be taking King Edmund." Oreius told him, showing him the map, where some thoughtful creature had been making a note of where they had travelled. He hadn't realised it until he had seen the map, but they had been doubling back slightly, not towards air Paravel, somewhere slightly more northerly. At the moment at least. But if they were doubling back now what was to say that they would not do so again.

"If your Highness, High King Peter the Magnificent allows," Maxus said. "I believe they are most likely heading towards the Stone Table."

Peter looked again at the map, indeed the Stone Table could possibly be where they were headed. They could also be going beyond that and to the witch's castle. "Why there?" he asked finally.

Maxus stiffened slightly. "It seems the most likely place, Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent; it is one of the few remaining places where her magic could be felt. There was a story at one time, soon after she had been killed," he stopped speaking and turned. "Olrinao!" he called.

Peter glanced over in time to see one of the Harpies leave her conversation with the others and join them, bowing deeply to Peter, her wings twitching a little. "Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent." She trilled to him, almost like a bird.

"The tale you told me, about the Qu—Witch." Maxus ordered quietly.

Olrinao looked at the Minotaur nervously, her eyes flitting to Peter and Oreius, but she began to speak, though it was with obvious reluctance. Peter wondered if it was he that made her feel so reluctant to share.

"After Quee—" she paused, nervously, looking to Maxus, who nodded. She took a deep breath and began again, straightening. "After the White Witch was defeated upon the field of battle, and we fled the area, there were whispers, whispers that she could be returned to us." She glanced at Peter, who was too stunned by this to say anything. Taking his silence as permission to continue she did so. "Not all of us believed it, but there were many who still believed in her strongly."

Peter found his voice. "How would they return her?" he asked.

The Harpy looked nervous again, but answered still. "They said that if they used the Traitors blood it would reform the Stone Table, and bring her back from the dead." It was a mere whisper, as if saying it aloud could make it true.

Peter closed his eyes. "Dear Aslan!" he whispered, pained. "Oh, Edmund, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" it was said mostly to himself, but those around him heard it. He opened his eyes and looked at them. "I don't suppose by blood they mean just a drop?" he asked, though he knew it could not possibly be the case.

Olrinao shrugged, wings unfurling a little. "Whether it requires only one drop I do not know, but His Majesty, King Edmund the Just was the one to facilitate her death by destroying her wand."

"They will not let him live." Oreius said darkly.

Peter felt sick, physically sick. But he managed to hold it inside, only his face paled at the thought.

"We will find him Your Majesty." Oreius said softly, placing a steadying hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Might I suggest we go on ahead to the Stone Table and lay an ambush for them?" Maxus rumbled.

"But what if they're not going there?" Peter asked faintly, hoping that this new information was not true.

"We could always leave the wolves to follow the Marks, take one or two of them with us. There did not appear to be any wolves in the group we fought, so they could call each other. Howls carry over a great distance; we would be able to know very quickly if they were headed towards somewhere else. The Stone Table is also a rather central location, so even if they were not going there, we would still be able to move to their actual location with relative ease. Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent." It almost seemed he tacked it onto the end, worried he had offended if the look in his eyes was any indication.

Peter considered the plan, surprising himself by actually admitting that it was a good one. He could see why Edmund liked having the Minotaur as the head of his guards. He was surprisingly good at this. Though why this should be a surprise was anyone's guess. Peter supposed he had just assumed the White Witch made every plan and that her followers did just that, followed.

"It's a good plan, what do you think Oreius?" he forced himself not to think about what might be happening to his brother.

Oreius nodded in agreement. "I think it would be our best chance Your Majesty. Now I think we should get some sleep if we wish to be up early." He suggested.

Peter gave a small laugh. Sleep? After this? Hardly likely. "Of course. Goodnight General," he nodded to Oreius then looked to Maxus, he didn't know what he should call him.

"Captain, Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent." Maxus offered.

"Goodnight Captain." He said, offering a small smile to him before turning and moving to his own bedroll. As he lay there, trying not to think about what he had been told, trying not to worry too much about his brother, he instead tried to work out why every fell creature called him 'Your Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent'. How did Edmund put up with it?

He made a note to asked Maxus tomorrow when they were on the move.


	5. Chapter 5

Five days of being hopelessly lost in the dense forest, and Edmund finally saw a landmark he recognised, and his heart went cold at the mere thought, dropping heavily into his stomach. Brightspark, padding along beside him, seemed to sense his sudden mood change and looked up at him curiously.

They had not had a chance to talk yet this morning, so Brightspark had yet to tell Edmund what he had heard in the howls last night. That Edmunds brother was heading directly to the stone table in hopes to ambush this group. Brightspark had never really heard of the table, he had heard vague mentions, but he didn't know why it was so important to the Narnian's.

"Edmund... Where are we going?"

Edmund glanced down at the young wolf, and forced a smile for him, pushing back the growing dread he felt. "The Stone Table, I think."

Brightspark, though Edmund didn't know it, was relieved that at least the others would be there, so nothing would happen to Edmund. "What is the Stone Table?" he asked.

Edmund looked ahead, frowning a little. "A place of deep magic and miracles. Surely you know the stories." He said; surprised when Brightspark shook his head, knowing from the look he meant 'No one ever tells me anything, like they think I'm a cub who can't understand'. Edmund knew that feeling well, even after he had known about Aslan's sacrifice for him, no one had come right out and said it in front of him, like he would break if they did. "The Stone Table is where Aslan gave up his life for mine, and died. But he came back again. I don't know all the details, but it was a miracle like never before."

He did not look at Brightspark, intent on looking ahead, as if he could see the Table through the thick trees.

"Will you tell me about her?" he heard Bright-spark asked, and looked round and down in surprise.

"Who?" he asked, confused.

Bright-spark looked at him. "The Witch." It was whispered so as to go unheard. "I mean, I know she was supposed to have been evil and everything, but no-one actually talks about her. Maxus and the others all say I don't need to know, and I don't think any of the others in the castle would like it very much if I started asking Questions. I did asked Queen Lucy once, but she said that you would be the better one to tell the story, because you really knew what she was like."

Edmund considered the request, and bit back a small, strangled sounding sigh. He hadn't even noticed that no-one spoke of the Witch, and of course the Fell would not ever speak of her for fear of being labelled once again as traitors of Narnia. And any Fell children would be left with no one to tell them of the history.

It wasn't the best distraction, but it would take his mind off the dread for a short time. After all, Bright-spark had a right to know what had happened, had the right to know why his kind and others were looked upon with distrust. He would have to look more into his gap in knowledge when he got back... if he got back.

"When I first met the witch she was—" Edmund began his story from the beginning, from where his life had started to change the most. When he had first betrayed his family. Much to his continued surprise Bright-spark didn't ask too many questions. But he could tell from the look in his eyes, and the way his tail twitched at certain parts that he was saving himself for the end of the story.

Edmund ended his tale at the point when he had broken the Witch's wand.

Brightspark was quiet for a long time, and the barrage of questions Edmund had been expecting had not come. Surely his little wolf friend was not growing up so much? "I think I understand now," the young wolf said quietly. "Why they don't like our kind very much. I don't like it, because my family never did anything, but I understand." He looked up at Edmund. "But I don't understand why they still call you a traitor. I mean, you came back to their side, and Aslan forgave you, and if what you say about him is true, then when he says it he means it, So if he forgave you, why hasn't everyone else?"

Edmund smiled. Sometime's he felt so old, even though he was only eleven. He felt like he had already lived his whole life, and was now on borrowed time. Brightsparks naivety and childlike defence of him was heart-warming in a way. "Spark, I am the worst among Traitors." He told him.

Brightspark gave him a look he couldn't decipher. "But how? I don't understand how. I mean, ok, so you went with her, but you didn't know she was evil when you did, did you? And maybe you did tell her where the army was, but really, it wasn't like they weren't already expecting the Witch to come at some point anyway, right? And you admitted you were wrong, and Aslan forgave you, and your brother and sisters forgave you. So I don't understand." It was low, but plaintive.

Edmund smiled sadly. "You have to see it from their point of view Spark, I was one of their prophesied saviours, one of the four who would sit in the throne at Cair Paravel, and I betrayed them. I joined the witch, helped her hurt the Narnian's. I don't expect them to forgive me."

The look Brightspark gave him then would have made him laugh in different circumstances. It was a mix of astonishment and incredulous horror. "But your the King, can't you just order them to forgive you?" he asked.

Edmund shook his head. "Wouldn't that make me like her?" he asked back.

Brightspark wilted just a little at that, but stood firm. "But you're not like her, and didn't you already do enough to prove it? You broke her wand in that battle, you almost died. Why isn't that enough for them?" there was very real confusion in his voice.

Edmund shook his head. "Maybe you'll understand more when you're older Spark; I know I don't understand everything yet. And when you do, you can tell me Ok?"

Brightspark nodded slowly. "Yes Sire."

Edmund shot him a fond look. "It wasn't an order Spark."

Brightspark nodded again. "I know, but it's important enough to be considered one."

Edmund gave him a half smile, but shook his head, not really knowing how to respond to that. He looked forwards again, subconsciously tugging at the ropes binding his hands. He didn't like this. The dread welled back up in him again. He shot the wolf a look. He could not guarantee that the young one would survive this, after all, what reason would this group have to keep him alive after they had gotten what they wanted from Edmund.

"I want you to run the next chance you get." He told Bright-spark, firmly, quietly.

"No." Brightspark said.

"No?" Edmund looked surprised at the defiance; glancing round to make sure no one was paying too much attention to them.

Brightspark's ears flicked a little. "They're going to be there." He whispered softly.

Edmund shot him a startled look, but said nothing to draw attention to what had been said. His brother was heading to the stone table? The relief that ran through him at the thought was mind-blowing, but he did not let it show. He could only hope that Peter would be on time, he knew he shouldn't doubt the idea, but he was a rather realistic person, and really, just what were the odds of Peter reaching the stone table in time?

Maybe, just maybe, Peter and his group were closer to the Table than this one was.

This idea was shattered when they finally broke the lines of trees to find themselves close to where the Stone Table sat. Edmund shut his eyes, as idea's of what could happen here flashed in his mind, all of them involving Her. 'Please Aslan,' he thought desperately, 'Please don't let Peter feel guilty if he doesn't arrive in time. It's not his fault.'

"Your fate lies up there little King." The Hag said, drawing close to him. "Your blood will reform the table, and the Deep Magic will be appeased the way it should have been before, and we shall have our Queen back."

Edmund looked at her coldly; hiding his fear in what he hoped was a convincing way. "She is dead, Aslan killed her. There is no way to bring her back." He said, defiantly, not really sure if this was true, but hoping against all hope that it was.

The Hag gave him a look that tore through his carefully constructed shields, and suddenly he wasn't so sure. "There is always a way." The Hag told him. "Always."

It chilled Edmund, the certainty with which she spoke. Surely it couldn't be possible, surely. When the Hag turned away he squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment, trying to regain his stability. He felt Brightspark press against his leg reassuringly, and was very grateful for the wolf being there with him.

"Take him to the Table and secure him!" The Hag ordered.

Edmund was gripped by strong hands then, and was pulled, only half protesting, still aware of the implied threat to Brightsparks life. His mind was focused elsewhere, frozen by the thought that she could be returned. He didn't want this; he really, really didn't want this. He did not want to be the one that brought the witch back.

He prayed Peter was close by; though a part of him told him there was no point in hoping.

x

The ropes were pulled tight. It was an awkward position, tied spread-eagled across the broken table, the jagged edges digging uncomfortably into his back. He tugged futilely at the bindings, but they were solid, and he knew it was a vain hope. But still he fought them, not caring that he was tearing the skin off his wrists and ankles as he did.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and darkness was starting to gather.

The Hag stood near his head, waving a knife close to his face, bony clawed hand grasping at his hair, pulling his head back. "I hope you've said your goodbyes, son of Adam." The Hag laughed, a chilling sound, and she pressed the ceremonial knife to the side of his neck, angled to make slicing across easier.

Edmund tensed, pulling harder at the ropes.

It took a few seconds for him to realise that the knife had been removed, and that he had closed his eyes. He forced them back open to find Brightspark had managed to slip past those watching him, and was now standing over his, ears back, and teeth barred in a fierce snarl. He had obviously startled the Hag into moving away.

It was a brave act, but a foolish one as well, and though Edmund did try to pull himself free, it was hopeless, and he could only watch as Brightspark was dragged, kicking and biting off the Table. Before he was pulled from it completely he gave a single, howl that echoed in the silent night around them, and then he disappeared beneath at least ten of the enemy.

Edmund felt sick as he watched swords being raised covered with blood, and the desperate, childlike whimpers heard a moment later. He didn't feel his hair being gripped again, barely felt the knife being returned to his neck. He closed his eyes, and he asked Aslan to look after Brightspark, and to help Peter and his sisters.

And he prayed that the White Witch could not be returned to the living.


	6. Chapter 6

It had taken Peter some time to work up the courage to speak to Maxus in a way that was un-confrontational. Well, maybe not courage exactly, that would imply that he was afraid of the Minotaur, and he most certainly was not. Maybe what he was looking to mean was that he had steeled himself to speak to the Minotaur in a non-confrontational way, for probably the first time since this whole misadventure had started.

He needed something to take his mind off what could be going to happen. He didn't want to believe his little brother could be sacrificed to bring back the Witch. If it could happen he knew it would kill Edmund... if he survived, which given Oreius' words the night before was not a likely state Edmund would be in if they arrived too late.

But he couldn't put his people harder than they were already being pushed. The Fell were even more eager to move out in the morning, ready before anyone else. Peter had watched Maxus give the wolves their orders and they had set off without a question. There was still a clear division in the ranks, and Peter thought he had finally worked out why it bothered him so much.

It wasn't that it was the Fell and the Narnian's. And it wasn't that it looked wrong, just a little odd. But it was the fact that they were all out here to find and save Edmund, and yet they stood apart, two separate factions. They didn't look united.

They should look united.

Oreius still marched on his left, Maxus was to his right.

He turned to Maxus slowly, steeling himself. "Might we talk?" he asked, inwardly winching, wondering if maybe he sounded too harsh, or too imperious.

Maxus looked at him in some surprise. "As you wish, Your Majesty High King Peter the Magnificent." He rumbled.

Peter just stopped himself from pointing a finger at him at the words, knowing it was a childish action and not befitting a king. "Do you call my brother by his full title?" he asked, honest curiosity in his tone.

Maxus shook his head slowly. "He has ordered us not to." He informed him.

Peter half smiled, that was Edmund all right. He was still wary of the title of king, though eater knew being King was something Edmund had wanted, with all his heart and soul, and that he wanted to be a good King. But his insecurities seemed to make it impossible for his brother to let people call him by his title. Anyone he considered friend was asked to call him Edmund. "What do you call him then?" given the title they continued to use when speaking about him it was likely they did not call him by his name.

"Sire, Your Majesty High King Peter the Magnificent." Maxus replied.

Peter stifled a sigh at the ridiculously long title. "Could we perhaps shorten that down a little?" he asked.

If he had thought Maxus looked surprised before, the Minotaur looked positively shocked now. "Your Majesty High King Peter th—"

Peter held up his hand to cut him off. "I won't ask you to call me Peter, or Sire, because quite frankly, I do not think it would be right, as I do not feel that I trust you enough. There are a lot of issues I have to work out in regards to your kind. But you are my brother's guards, and he trusts you... And I do trust him, so we really need to shorten my title, battle might prove a little difficult if you insist on calling me 'Your Majesty High King Peter' especially when all you want to do is tell me to look behind me."

Maxus made a huffing sound that could have been a smothered laugh. "That is what His Majesty King Edmund the Just told us."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Peter said. "So, take your pick, it's either Your Majesty, or High King Peter, no more of this full title. Ok?"

Maxus nodded shortly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Peter was silent for a long moment before he asked. "Why do you insist on using our whole titles anyway?"

The Minotaur looked at him, considering his answer carefully, and that told Peter without the words that this had something to do with the Witch. "When we addressed the... Witch we were to address her as 'Queen Jadis of Narnia, Empress of the Lone Islands.' To not show this respect when you were a common soldier was a punishable offence. And her punishments were always harsh, and long-lasting, and most of the time did not result in death, though you remained close to it for a time."

"You think we would hurt any of you if you did not call us by our full titles?" Peter asked, slightly horrified that anyone could think he or his siblings could possibly harm anyone over a mere title.

"In the beginning." Maxus admitted quietly. "But His Majesty King Edmund the Just has made it quite clear that this is not the case. We use the titles now as terms of respect without the possibility of punishment should we forget."

Peter looked ahead again, considering the words and hating the witch even more for what she had done. Hiding a sigh and straightening up in the saddle. "How long until we get to the Stone Table?"

"We should be there by nightfall Your Majesty." Oreius told him.

Peter prayed that nothing would happen, that they would get there in time.

x

Afternoon bled into evening, and Peter found himself feeling very uneasy. As the sun began it's descent and they had not reached the Stone Table, the most dreadful feeling began to well up in the pit of his stomach. They were getting closer. Word from the wolves was that the enemy was holding a course directly towards the table, which made Peter worry.

It was utter rubbish of course that the Witch could be brought back. It had to be. Yet it did loom like a spectre at the back of his mind. There was no denying that they would have died in the last battle with the witch if hadn't been for Edmund, even with Aslan, many more would have died before it was finished. Peter didn't know how he knew, but he did know that if Edmund died upon the Stone Table, and if by some twisted twist of fate the Witch was returned, that Narnia would descend into a war unlike any seen before, and far more lives would be lost.

They needed to get there, and they needed to get there soon. Everything was moving too fast. Peter felt about ten moves behind, straining to catch up, but always just out of grasping distance. He couldn't let his little brother die, he couldn't. It would kill him if he got here too late.

"Your Majesty?" came the in unison question from both Oreius and Maxus.

Peter hadn't realised he had begun to nudge his horse to a slightly faster pace. He blushed just slightly, but turned worried eyes to Oreius. "I have the most terrible feeling. We have to get moving. How close are we?"

Oreius looked upwards for a few seconds before consulting the map. "About two hours journey still King Peter."

"Is there any way to get there sooner?" he asked, clutching at straws, and he knew it. This as the fastest route, and they were travelling as fast as they could afford to.

"If Your Highness wishes we could press on faster, but we would only be able to fight at half capacity due to tiredness." Maxus answered him.

Peter knew this. But it did not make hearing it any easier. "No, no, there's no point getting there only to lose the fight." He swallowed a sigh, a worry line appearing between his eyes as he gazed ahead along the path, hoping they would not be too late.

x

Two hours later they were in sight of the Stone Table, and from the silhouettes in the dusk light they were not the first. Peter felt his blood run cold at the sight. Where they too late? Was Edmund still alive?

A blood curdling Howl, terrifying in it's desperation, galvanised Peter into action, and without so much as a cry he spurred his horse onwards at a dead run, knowing everyone else was following him. They took the hill in a heaving mass, the ground seemed to shake. The distance seemed too large, and Peter worried that he would not get across it in time. That when he got there his brother would already be dead, his blood spattered across the table.

It was a shock to him then when he found himself in the middle of the large group, his sword slashing. He was slowly making his way towards the Stone Table, where he could see a Hag standing on the broken sides, screaming orders at her side. Peter knew his brother was on that table, whether he was alive or not remained to be seen, but that was where he was, so that was where Peter had to get to.

It was a quick and bloody skirmish, but their element of surprise stood them in good favour and it wasn't long before the united Narnian's and Fell began to gain the upper hand.

Peter saw none of this though, trusting Oreius to deal with it how he did best, his mission was to get to his brother, that was known by all there, and he would not be stopped. Finally he stood at the Stone Table, his sword in motion before he even realised that the Hag was leaping towards him, his instincts guiding him. She flew over his head to skid along the ground, but Peter paid it no heed. He knew that their forces had the battle well in hand.

He clambered up onto the table so he could see Edmund, sagging in pure relief when he saw Edmund staring up at him. He couldn't tell what the emotions in Edmunds eyes were, but he didn't care, he was just so glad to see his little brother alive, and uninjured. He checked him over quickly, and amended that when he saw his torn up wrists and ankles.

It took some manoeuvring, but he managed to cut the ropes with his sword, releasing his brother. From the whoops of victory he knew their group had won, so he pulled Edmund up, and into a strong hug.

He didn't know how long they stood like that, balanced precariously on the broken middle of the tale. Peter actually felt somewhat bereft when Edmund pulled back a little to look up at him. "You came...?"

Peter was stunned by the words, and it took a moment for him to form a reply. He studied Edmund for a long moment, and was pained by what he saw in his eyes, Edmund had been truly terrified. Peter hated to think it was because he had thought he wouldn't come. "You sound like you didn't expect me to." He said, sounding more hurt than he had intended.

Edmund blinked at him for a long moment, before a slowly smile spread across his face. "No, no. I knew you were coming. I knew you were. I didn't mean that. I just meant..." the smile slipped, and Edmund gave a tiny shudder.

Peter wanted to pull him back into another hug, but settled to resting his hands on his brother's shoulders, looking at him intently. "Are you ok?" he asked, he could remember so clearly what her people had done to him before."

"No. They actually treated me very, very well... up to now." Finally he looked around, and Peter could see his surprise at seeing so many of his own fighters there.

Peter smiled. "They were armed and ready to come after you before I could get to my horse." He told him. "You have some good people."

Edmund stared at him then, and Peter could see the rush of pride go through his brother at his words. But was taken aback when he saw horror bleed into his face, instantly Peter whipped round, expecting there to be some kind of sneak attack, but Edmund was scrambling past him, stumbling off the Stone Table and over towards the group of wolves that had gathered.

Peter suddenly remembered the howl from earlier, and his heart went out to his little brother. And he wished Lucy was here, on the off chance the wolf was still alive.

"Milrina!" Edmund was shouting, and the harpy healer was beside him in an instant.

Peter watched as all the Fell creatures began to gather around Edmund, almost forming a protective circle around him, as though the danger was still there. Peter had the horrifying notion, that had the Witch been more like Edmund, or if Edmund had stayed on her side during the battle, then her forces could have been nigh on impossible to stop. He had a sort of irresistible charisma, he always had, undefined, but once it was noticed, it could not be un-noticed, and you were drawn to it.

He understood why they followed him so readily now.

He moved forward, knowing he would get his brother to himself again later, once he had made sure his people were well taken care of. He himself had things to look into and check before they camped tonight. Ridding the Stone Table of the signs of battle and burying anyone who had fallen.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a week since they had returned to Cair Paravel. Edmund had allowed his sisters to coddle him for a whole day, before extracting himself to attend to his duties. His mind was always occupied that week, as he considered a way to honour those who had died, and those who had lived who had proven themselves beyond any shadow of a doubt. Not that Edmund had doubted them, but for Peter to comment upon it, demanded some kind of recognition.

It was not a formal occasion he finally decided upon, but a small affair in the throne room, with his siblings in attendance, Oreius, Tumnus and all those who had taken part in the battle who wished to attend.

He was rather nervous; he had spoken to Oreius extensively, discussing the matter. There hadn't been an hour that went by that he didn't seek Oreius out to ask him something, either about the process, or the general concept. Peter had stood on the sidelines and chuckled at him, as if the whole thing was something terribly amusing.

Well, maybe it was to Peter, but it wasn't to Edmund!

Thankfully Peter sat in his throne now, completely serene, and watching the proceeding with a slight smile that spoke of his tentative acceptance of the Fell under Edmunds command. Edmund hid his nervous rubbing of his palms against the legs of his tunic. He still wasn't really sure he should be the one doing this; Peter would be a much better choice.

But these were Edmunds guard, and he knew he would feel guilty if he asked Peter to do it. But really, what if he messed it up?

"Captain Maxus, step forward." He called. Oreius had told him he could forgo the over the top formality, which wasn't really Edmund's style to begin with. Beside's, Edmund didn't think those gathered would truly mind if he forewent the ten minute speech that was normally given beforehand if this kind of thing happened so long after the fact.

Maxus stepped forward, his great brow furrowed in some confusion. He had not told any of them why they were gathered, just that it was to honour those who had fought so bravely for him and beside him, whether alive or dead. But he was sure the Fell creatures had no idea what he meant to do, after all, he doubted the Witch went in for this kind of thing.

Edmund smiled at him, reassuringly. "Kneel, please."

Maxus did so, still looking confused, a series of whispers broke out among those fell creatures who had gathered. Edmund pulled his sword from his sheath and moved forward enough to rest it on the Minotaur's shoulder, just by his neck, he saw Maxus tense slightly, but he did not move.

"For unwavering loyalty, and complete trust in my commands, I hereby name you Maxus, the head of my personal guard, and fearsome warrior without equal, the First Knight of the Order of Justice." He withdrew the sword and smiled, a little in relief at having got through it without faltering, and for making the first knight of his order speechless. "Do you accept this honour?" he asked.

Maxus was silent, much like he had been after Edmund had asked him to become the head of his guards. Edmund knew him well enough now not to allow the silence to bother him. Maxus was merely weighing up all his options before deciding. Finally the great head dipped lower.

"I accept, Your Royal Majesty, King Edmund the Just."

Edmund smiled brightly at him. "Rise then, Sir Maxus and return to your comrades."

Maxus rose, and returned to where he had been standing before, everyone around him was staring at him in shock, indeed the witch had not had such things as knighting for her best warriors, so this was a rather new and novel experience.

"Brightspark, step forward." He called.

There was a flurry of activity near the back of the group, and it took a moment for Brightspark to emerge. He was limping badly, some of the fur along his side was missing, and a jagged scar ran across it. He had very nearly not made it. But he had been on his way to recovery, if only slightly by the time they had returned to Cair Paravel. Lucy had taken one look at the young wolf and had offered her cordial.

The look Brightspark had given her at the mere idea might have been more amusing in other circumstances, but there was still a chance that Brightspark would be unable to walk again. The wolf had told her, very plainly that he wanted his first ever scars. He had gotten them for a very good cause, and he wanted them to remember. They had eventually convinced him to at least let her treat the more serious wounds on his leg, but to leave the one running across his side. So he still limped a little, but it would not bother him further once it had healed, Milrina had sworn to it.

Brightspark eventually came to a stop in front of Edmund, and was trying so hard to look cool and collected, though his tail gave him away completely, swishing away excitedly. Edmund held back his smile at that. He had been so relieved to find that the wolf had not died, so very relieved. Bright-spark was the real reason he had wanted to do this, after the sacrifice he had made he deserved this.

"I won't ask you to kneel in deference to your injuries." He said, he could see Bright-spark trying to work out what 'deference' meant as it was hardly a word he had ever heard before, as before he took his sword and touched it lightly to Bright-sparks shoulder. "For unwavering devotion, and courage above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby name you Bright-spark, most noble warrior of my personal guards, with a spirit unmatched by any, the Second Knight of the Order of Justice."

Bright-sparks tail was going a mile a minute and he was staring at Edmund in a mixture of childlike excitement and adult pride as he was knighted.

"Do you accept this honour?" Edmund asked, though he knew it was completely unnecessary.

"Of course Edmund... Sire... Your Highness King Edmund the Just!" Bright-spark said, stumbling over the words a little.

Edmund smiled at him. "Thank you, now please step back and join your comrades, Sir Bright-spark."

Bright-spark returned to the group, to stand beside Filionus, who had recovered quite nicely from the first attack.

Edmund then addressed the whole group, feeling the nervousness come back again, hoping he would manage not to mess it up. "Though I have only chosen two to be the first of my order of knights, do not think that I do not value the rest of you just as highly. You readied for battle without knowing truly what you were walking into, and I thank you all for that. Your loyalty to me, and my kin, is a great boon to Narnia, and myself. Those who have died, go with Aslan's blessings to the world beyond." He paused, his nervousness coming to the fore.

He was silent for a few moments, before he said a heartfelt.

"Thank you."


End file.
